Your Fingers Between Mine
by SmilesLasting
Summary: Shikamaru doesn't like to hold hands. ShikaTema.


[A/N] FLUFFFFFFFF SO SUGARY IT'LL ROT YOUR TEETH. Enjoy.

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**Your Fingers Between Mine  
**

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Shikamaru wasn't exactly sure when their relationship of "guide showing ambassador around town" became "boy and girl having a physical liaison". Well, no, that was a lie. He remembered distinctly how her mouth had found his for the first time, completely upturning everything they had established as their relationship til then.

He remembered it so clearly because he had been caught off guard. Though he had been aware that they had _something_ between the two of them, that was much more than what existed normally between allied comrades (which already edged the label of their relationship into unmarked territory), he simply hadn't calculated that Temari would ever suddenly yank him into an alley while he was walking her to her inn room, push him against the wall and press her open mouth to his.

Yet she had. And he had been rendered unable to do anything but to blink at her stupidly when it was over, his mouth feeling weirdly cold and empty without hers over it. Then she had grinned that dangerous, cocky grin of hers while he tried to pretend like he was unaffected. (He had managed an intelligent "Um...?" and suffered another of Temari's know-it-all looks, before she'd closed the distance again. Of course, he very properly responded the second time.)

Since then, everything had been going wildly downhill. Or uphill, depending on how he wanted to look at it. Whenever Temari visited, they ended up going a little further each time, and lately he often found himself in her inn room in the mornings, both of them naked and tangled together in the sheets.

Like right now.

"Aw, hell."

"Hey, be quiet," muttered the girl on his shoulder, her blond hair a mess against the white sheets and over his arm. "I don't want to be up yet."

"Temari, you really need to stop bringing me over here," Shikamaru groaned, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and watched as the Suna kunoichi beside him begin to stir. "At some point your brothers are going to find out and will either kill me or castrate me. Or both. Most likely both."

"How about you stop throwing yourself on me then?" She opened her eyes, the blue-green irises immediately flickering to his face. And she smirked. "Can't keep your hands off me, huh? Or your mouth..."

"Don't get cocky just because we're a little physical now."

"A _little_ physical?"

He sighed. "If you're awake now, let's get going."

"Don't wanna."

"Temari."

"Shikamaru."

They gazed at each other for a long moment. But soon, he conceded, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. Temari never lost when they did this; she was too stubborn. "Fine, it's too troublesome to take you around yet anyway."

She grinned, and they both knew she had won. Then she seemed to remember something.

"Oh, but _you_ might want to leave soon. Kankurou isn't awake yet, but he will be soon, and if he sees you leave my room with me..." Her words were telling him to go, but she was sliding her fingers between his. She gripped his hand tight and smiled at him. The window was open, letting in the morning sunlight, and it danced on her figure; her teal eyes were sparkling, and he could see the faint scars on her shoulders from years of being a kunoichi.

She was beautiful, and he didn't want to go.

"Do you want me to go or not?" he asked, meeting her eyes.

She blinked. "Of course I don't want you to go." Temari was always so straightforward; there was absolutely zero embarrassment on her face, even as she told him such a remarkably embarrassing thing.

If he weren't Shikamaru, he might have blushed. But he, too, simply blinked, and said, "Hm. Give me a legitimate reason to stay, then, and risk getting beat up by your brothers. I might consider it."

It only took her about half a second to come up with an answer. "Because you like me," she told him, raising a brow, just asking him to challenge her statement.

He shot a grin towards her. "Let me repeat: don't get cocky just because we're a little physical now."

And she shot it right back. "I remember what you said. I'm simply stating a fact that you refuse to admit." She made a pointed glance towards the window. "It's probably around 8 in the morning now. You should get going soon. Don't you have to meet up with the Hokage before accompanying me to the meeting?"

He looked at their clasped hands, then back at her face. Her hair was a mess and she had red indents on her face from being pressed against the embroidered pillow case. But what did it matter; this girl was _Temari. _It was enough. It was everything. Especially in this gentle moment.

Still gazing at their intertwined fingers, he murmured, "You know, I actually really don't like holding hands."

Temari didn't seem fazed by his sudden change in conversation; she knew his apparent deviations always came back full circle. He was a strategist, not a socialite. "But you're holding my hand right now," she remarked, squeezing his hand for emphasis. "If you hated it, you could've just let go, you know. I'm not snobby about things like that."

"Naw, that's not it. It's not the physical aspect of it, although I dislike sweaty palms as much as the next person."

"Then what's the reason?" She pushed herself up with her free hand, and the sheet fell down from her shoulders, revealing her naked body to him.

Their faces came into close proximity, and he could catch the smell of something earthy but delicate wafting from her messy hair—a distinctively Suna scent, so different from the flowery smells of Konoha. He much preferred Temari's smell.

Then her delicate lips were moving: "Why don't you like holding hands, Shikamaru?"

He pulled their joined hands to his bare chest, over his beating heart, and closed his eyes. "Isn't it obvious? Because at some point, you have to let go."


End file.
